The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1887-09-08
TWilson MirrOr.l


the famous Ministries were giving a
benefit performance. They had just
concluded the sweet refrain of the
Swanee River" The tumult of ap-
plause was hushed by the appearance
of a ragged old wreck crowding to the
front. Lifting his banjo as sign OF
brotherhood, he cried with choking
voice:
"Boys, sing that song once more,
once more for poor old mlnstrePs
sake. 1t brings back the lost and
dead, my old home rises before me,
where was once good and happy all
the day. learned the song there Of
my mother. The vision of her smil-
ing face, praising her boy, comes back
with the ringing notes of the banjo,
and the memories of long ago. l
wandered away to play and sing for
the world 1t listened, and applauded.
| was fattered, feasted, intoxicated
with fame and the whirl Of pleasure.
But l wrecked it ALL Now, old and
broken in heart and strength, am
left with but one friend-my banjo.
No one listens to it, for the world has
found new favorites, and the old min
strel is turned away. She who first
praised me died while was playing
for the world. Died without seeing
ne for years. The song she taught
her boy led him from her side. He
left her for the world. The world has
forsaken him as he did her. Boys,
sing my mothers song again, and let
my old heart thrill with better life
once more
The house sigHalled its assent. The
old minstrel sat down in the front row.
When the solo reached the concluding
lines of the second stanza, the singers
eyes turned pityingly upon the wan
derer, and with voice trembling with
emotion, came the words:
"All up and down this world wandered,
When | was young;
Oh, many were the days | Squandered,
Many were the songs sung
the tears coursIng down the furrows of
care, his fingers unconsciously caress-
ing the strings of his battered banjo.
All the summer of his life came back
to his heart again. Mother, home,
love, and all his boyhood dreams. The
chorus began, and the shriveled fingers
sought the chords with strange, weird
harmony unheard before, the strains
floated along the tide of song. The
time.worn instrument seemed to catch
its masters spirit, and high above the
orchestra accompaniment rang the
soul-like chords from its quiverng
strings.
When the interlude came the min
strel leaned over his banjo with all the
fondness Of mother over her babe.
Not a sound from either was heard.
The solo rose again, and the almost
supernatural harmonies drifted with it.
But he bowed like mourner over the
dead. Every heart in the audience
was touched, and tears of sympathy
were brushed away by many jeweled
hand. The singers ewes were moist,
and with plaintive sadness the last
lines were sung:
when shall hear the bees humming
All round the comb?
When shall hear the banjo trumming
Down in my good old home?"
The last chorus followed. The
hoary head of the minstrel was lifted,
and his face shone with the light of
new dawning. His voice joined with
peculiar blending, perfect in har-
mony, yet keeping with his banjo high
above the singers, ringing, like rich
harp-string long overstrained. The
memory of better days, the wayward
ness, sorrow, remorse, hope, and de-
spair of all his wasted life seemed pent
up in those marvellous tones. The
chorus closed, and his head sank down,
the long white locks shrouding the
banjo.
The manager came before the cur
tain, and said:
ne MINISTRIES give one-naif the
benefit proceeds to the wandering
brother"
The house approved with loud dem
onstrations. 4 collection started in
the galleries, and swept over the hall
like a golden shower. The two SUMS
were heaped together on the stage.
Such a contribution never graced the
footlights before. Again the audience
broke forth in round after round Of
hearty good cheer.
But the banjo was still hushed under
the shroud of snow-white hair, and no
word of thanks or token of gratitude
came from the silent figure toward
which all eyes were bent. They called
him to the stage, and the manager
went to escort him there. He laid
his hand on the bowed head the soul